


Spongebob, Garfield, and a Mark VIII Suit

by sheafrotherdon



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-29
Updated: 2012-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-19 19:31:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanksgiving, 1933; Thanksgiving, 2012.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spongebob, Garfield, and a Mark VIII Suit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dogeared](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogeared/gifts).



Steve still remembers: November 30th, 1933, standing outside Mr. Zarovski's store, listening in on the too-loud radio kept behind the counter. It was Bucky's idea – it was usually Bucky's idea – to huddle in the doorway, to listen to the WOR announcers describing the costumes and balloons.

"A million people, all for a parade," Bucky said, hands stuffed inside the pockets of his jacket. "Can you imagine?"

"Nope," said Steve, shaking his head, squinting up at the sky; it looked like it might snow, and his coat was thin.

"I'd climb up to that balcony," Bucky said with a grin, nudging Steve with his elbow. "Climb right up and steal Santa's hat, wave at all those rich kids."

Steve laughed softly. "You would. I can see it."

"Get me a ride on one of those balloons, hang on to the ropes when it floats away, see where it takes me."

"I hear one got to Buffalo last year."

"Nah, I'm thinking Paris. London, maybe. I'd be in all the papers."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "I think you'll be in the papers, someday," he said. "Balloon ride or not."

Bucky was in the papers, listed among the MIA in 1943. Steve remembers that, too: the look on Bucky's face as he lost his grip, falling toward rocks and ice and snow. He closes his eyes and breathes out slowly. "Not today," he says to himself, and lets himself out of his room.

The mansion is quiet, the others sleeping, and Steve moves quietly so as not to disturb. He pulls on gloves, tugs on a blue, knitted cap that Darcy gave him on what he thinks was a whim, swears colorfully when he reaches the bottom of the staircase and Tony steps into his field of vision, his sunglasses hooked into the zipper of a colorful, puffy coat. 

"Thought it was a nice day for a parade," Tony says.

"You did?" Steve asks suspiciously.

"Did the math," Tony offers, shrugging. "You were what, six when the first one happened? Your dad passed, your mom died – I can't imagine anyone paid attention at the orphanage. And this is your first year back."

Steve tries to get his thoughts in order. "You guessed?"

Tony looks away for a moment. "JARVIS might have helped. Pepper. Darcy." He waves a hand. "I don't know, it all blurs together, and the point is, if I have a point, that we're going to the damn parade. So let's go," he says, putting his sunglasses on.

"Tony," Steve says. "Tony, It's still dark outside."

"Details," Tony says, undeterred.

Happy's outside, dressed for the cold, the car already running. "We're just waiting for a couple of people, sir," he says, looking somewhat guilty.

"We are?" Tony inches his glasses down his nose. "Who?"

"Me," says Clint, swinging down from a second-floor sill.

"Me," says Natasha, melting out of the shadows.

"Me," says Bruce, ambling out of the house in a comical hat with ear-flaps.

"We are officially at three people," Tony says, looking at Happy. "One more than a couple. If Thor's coming too – "

"He can't make it," Natasha says as she breezes past. "He's cooking the turkey for later."

Steve thinks with some wonder that that's not the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.

Happy drops them at the north side of the parade route, the better to see the balloons without being seen themselves. The others fall into their usual banter, talking about holidays past and holidays missed and holidays misunderstood, but Steve stands stock still at the corner of 81st and marvels at what he sees. The balloons are enormous, in every shape and size, and he has no idea what most of them represent, but it's still as thrilling as he'd hoped it would be as a kid.

"You okay?" asks Tony, hanging back.

Steve smiles. "I'm great," he says. "I mean, really great."

"You should look down there, between Spongebob and Garfi . . . – what am I saying, between the yellow blob and the orange cat."

Steve looks, squints a little. "Is that . . ."

"Me?" Tony asks. "Why, yes it is. Paid for by a generous donation from Stark Industries and doing wonders for the public image of SHIELD. Fashioned after the Mark VIII, but without the weapons capability. Clearly. It's a balloon."

Steve laughs. "Of course you bought a balloon."

"Of course I did. It's exactly the kind of self-absorbed gesture that brings me delight. I considered trying to make _you_ into a balloon, but I'm not sure the world is ready for your ass scaled to 200 times its regular size. I'm not sure _I'm_ ready for your ass . . . "

"Aren't there children around here?" Steve asks, grinning.

"Maybe," Tony says, grinning right back. "Hey, my hands are cold."

"Oh, really?" Steve says, deadpan. "Didn't think to bring gloves?"

"Thought I could hold my boyfriend's hand and then I wouldn't _need_ . . . "

"Come here." And he shouldn't reward this kind of behavior, but he wraps Tony up in a grateful hug all the same, glad that this Thanksgiving will be warm; warm like the huff of Tony's breath against his throat; warm like a brief, promising kiss.

"So, how much helium does it take to keep Iron Man's over-inflated head afloat?" Steve asks.

"We should go find out," Tony says. "Last one to the arc reactor's a loser." And he takes Steve's hand in his, tugs him down the street.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Spongebob, Garfield, and a Mark VIII Suit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062164) by [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins), [sheafrotherdon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon)




End file.
